


‘Tis the East

by Shachaai



Series: Vampire AU [7]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate History, Alternate Universe - Vampire, M/M, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-04
Updated: 2011-10-04
Packaged: 2017-11-07 16:37:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/433225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shachaai/pseuds/Shachaai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alfred attempts to acquaint his sire and former guardian with the twenty-first century.</p>
            </blockquote>





	‘Tis the East

**Author's Note:**

  * For [losthitsu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/losthitsu/gifts).



> Set the day after Lesser Avalon. I wanted to partially explore some of the things you can miss being invented in the span of a century, I guess, and what sort of effect it might have on ~~repressed individuals~~ vampires. ~~And Hitsu wanted fluff and this is a good excuse. =w=;;;~~
> 
> Some tangential facts for you: jeans have been around since the 1870s; radioactivity was discovered in 1896 by the French scientist Henri Becquerel, and the first apparently effective sun-block may have been made in 1936, by a chemist named Franz Greiter. Better products were made during the height of WW2, as the effects of overexposure to the sun were becoming more and more widely noted due to the placement of soldiers around the Pacific and African regions. ~~Because, you know, no-one ever gets sunburn in Europe. /deadpan~~

___ _ It’s actually easier for Alfred to cover Arthur in what the elder vampire classifies as ‘suspicious and likely highly radioactive white _glop’_ than it is for him to coax Arthur into a pair of slim jeans and a t-shirt. It’s a monumental struggle, Batman versus Superman, a clash of _titans_ – ‘cuz, while Arthur’s _body_ is up and about in the twenty-first century, Arthur's _mind_ is still _firmly_ stuck in the late nineteenth. Never mind how much Alfred points out cravats, top-hats and tails as regular-wear are just _weird_ now, t-shirts, to Arthur, are rude and _improper_ and a bunch of other stuff Alfred tunes out because, really, Arthur can’t expect him to listen when the Englishman’s doing all his ranting bare-chested (in jeans, after a few sour comments about ‘goddamn Americans’) and…kinda shimmer- _glowy_ where the lights hit his sun-lotion-covered skin.

Alfred yanks Arthur to him by his new belt-loops mid-rant and kisses him into quiet. Arthur hisses, and knees Alfred in the crotch.

They compromise.

Arthur wears the jeans, but he leaves the t-shirt Alfred has offered him on the floor. (It has _Bugs Bunny_ on it; how stuffy do you have to be to turn down _Bugs Bunny?_ ) He steals a poet shirt from Alfred’s unpacked suitcase instead (Alfred swears blind it’s Matthew’s shirt that he’s packed by mistake) and every inch of him that the sun can touch is covered, and recovered again, in sun-cream, so Alfred can take his former guardian’s hand and lead him to the entrance of the hotel they’re in until their flight the following day, to the door where the (actually) _hot_ English autumn sunshine streams in.

Arthur stops dead where the shadows end, toes the line between gold and grey and visibly _wavers._ “…Are you sure,” he asks, hesitating, when Alfred looks over at him inquiringly. “Idiot, are you sure it won’t burn?”

When Arthur had been interred walking out into afternoon sunshine was tantamount to suicide. Stronger and more resilient vampires had _just_ been able to brace the evening sun – Arthur had done it, sometimes, walking Matthew and Alfred around the garden he was unable to properly tend to say goodnight to all the flowers and the faeries that had lived among them.

But this is _now_.

_ “Positive, _ ” Alfred assures him, and ignores Arthur’s warning yelp to stick his bare hand straight out into the sunshine, into the light, before bringing it back into the shade to show Arthur with a grin. “See?” 

Arthur mimics him, slowly, wonderingly, letting his fingertips touch the light like a blind man finding his way somewhere new. He follows after his hand, carefully, the glow spreading across him and into him as he leaves the shade, stepping out into the fresh air of an autumn afternoon, cut grass , apples and ozone. An irritating little bird in a nearby hedge tweeting. _Sunshine._ Sunshine, golden and bright and strong, touching Arthur’s hair and skin and clothes and covering him in purely natural light for the first time in _eons._

And Arthur _smiles_ , something Alfred hasn’t seen in almost as long, utterly lost in the sky and everything around him. And. And _happy._ “It’s warm.”

“…Yeah,” Alfred says, coming up beside him, hands stuffed in his pockets and trying not to dorkily grin at having done something _right_ for a change, right and good and –

And Arthur turns and smiles at _him,_ with the sun catching in his green eyes and brilliant, so Alfred just gives in and grins back.

“Yeah,” Alfred agrees, with all his heart. “It’s warm.”


End file.
